Burn

Burn
by Rachel Wicks

In a room with a ceiling fan
there sits,
there sits this man
And he knows he's got a choice,
but what,
what can be done?

With my coffee,
and my lunch hour,
all these new toys
that I've acquired.
I can taste it,
but it's not here.
I'll just fake it -
that's much easier.

I want to burn it
I want to burn it
I want to burn it
I want to burn it down

Let's all go and have some children,
let's pay our bills til we die.
We all think, we can't escape this,
we all think, a white picket fence around it
The Man says, that's right,
we have have to do this.
that's right,
we have have to do this.
this, this,
...we have have to do this.

burn it!, burn it!
burn it down
I want to burn it down
burn this down

With my coffee,
and my lunch hour,
fucking painted
with shit I don't use.
I can fake it,
but I think I'll pass this time.
I think I'll pass this time.

In a room with no walls,
that's where I like to be.
- that's where I like to be...